


how to get the hufflepuff

by kurtsiehummel



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Hufflepuff Blaine Anderson, M/M, No bashing though, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly, Slow Burn, Slytherin Kurt Hummel, Slytherin Sebastian Smythe, Witch Kurt Hummel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurtsiehummel/pseuds/kurtsiehummel
Summary: kurt hummel's guide to getting the guy:step one: lock in on the targetstep two: get thwarted by sebastian smytheor, the one where kurt and sebastian are slytherins and hate each other.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 62
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've always wanted to do a hogwarts kurtbastian au with a side of enemies to lovers so here we are
> 
> i would also like to preface this by saying that jk rowling is horrible and i do not agree with her views. terfs are not welcome here

**first year**

The rumble of passing trains throbs through Kurt’s body, setting his teeth on edge. He doesn’t realise that his hand has clenched white-knuckled around the handle of his suitcase until his dad squeezes it. “You’ll do good, kiddo,” he hears him murmur, and for a few serene seconds, he almost believes him.

But then they’re walking up to a solid brick wall, and his dad is patting him on the shoulder. “You know what to do now, kid.”

And Kurt does know. He’s done nothing but listen, wide-eyed and eager, to stories about the place Burt and Elizabeth Hummel first met. Anything to learn more about his mother. But stories are stories, and real life is running head first into a very tall, very solid looking wall and he can’t help but have second thoughts.

“So you’re sure it won’t hurt?” he asks, wringing his hands together.

Before his dad can reply, a smarmy voice sounds behind him. “Of course it won’t hurt. What are you, a Muggle?”

Kurt spins around, retorts on the tip of his tongue. His grandparents were Muggles and there’s nothing wrong with being one, thank you very much. And how dare the stupid-sounding stranger condescend him for having a very normal and rational response to the idea of crashing head-first into bricks?

All that verbal ammunition is wasted when the source of the voice - from what he can see, a gangly boy with messy, chestnut hair - saunters past and glides straight through the wall without missing a beat.

The boy’s parents follow suit - a man in a pressed black suit and a woman with a platinum blonde coif. Kurt can barely see through his seething rage at the family’s cool dismissal, but the feeling of his father’s hand on his shoulder clears away the vindictive fog. It’s better that he hasn’t been given the chance to retaliate - he can show his father he can take the moral high ground.

As if his dad can sense Kurt’s whirring thoughts, the hand on his shoulder tightens. “You’re going to meet lots of assholes like that, kiddo.”

Kurt raises a brow at the rare sound of his dad cursing. Burt chuckles at his expression.

“You heard what I said. And the way to deal with that? Don’t let them get to you. You’re better than them, Kurt, and you know it.”

Kurt straightens up, puffing out his chest. “I know,” he breathes. “I know,” he repeats, louder now, and he almost believes it.

He eyes the wall again warily.

“The best way to do it your first time is to close your eyes and get a running start.” His dad is smiling at him, expression steady and warm. But Kurt can’t stop seeing that boy from before gliding through the wall like it’s effortless, and his jaw sets.

“I’m not running,” he says, and before his dad can respond, he’s striding casually towards the brick wall, shoulders back and chin tilted up.

Three metres.

Two metres.

One metre.

“Don’t flinch. Don’t flinch don’t flinch don’t flinch.”

He pauses for a fraction of a second before steeling himself and placing a foot into the wall.

Immediately, he’s glad that his strides have been relatively fast. There’s no pain, but there’s a freezing sensation that slices from his neck to his toes. He can’t help but jerk forward, taking his next step a little too fast before he lands on the other side, breathless and shivering, but still composed and casual - as if he’s taken a nice stroll through an ice cold winter garden.

The air around him ripples as his dad lands beside him. “Not bad for your first time kid,” Burt chuckles, and the warmth Kurt feels at his dad’s words dispels any lingering shivers he may have had. The glow in his chest increases tenfold when he sees the rude boy from before a few metres away, staring at him in shock. Kurt can’t help but notice that with his eyebrows askew and mouth dropped open, the boy looks like a startled meerkat.

He smirks in satisfaction. Step one in showing the naysayers that he’s just as good as them, if not better - complete.

It isn’t until the boy flinches and looks away that Kurt breaks eye contact. And just like that, everything comes rushing back. He swivels his head, trying to take it all in. “Platform 9 ¾” looks and sounds just like the rest of King’s Cross Station - the golden brick walls; the rumble of faraway trains; the buzzing chatter of passers-by. But there’s one major difference.

“Streisand! Get back here!” he hears a shrill voice shriek just before a golden barn owl lands on his shoulder. Kurt nearly topples at the weight but manages to hold onto his suitcase handle.

“Streisand! Why can’t you ever stay still?” The weight disappears and Kurt recovers enough to stare at the scene in front of him. A tiny girl with a mess of brown hair is giving a stern talking-to to the massive bird on her shoulder. It’s an almost comic scene - especially with the way “Streisand” seems to be actually flinching at the impressively loud lecture.

Kurt clears his throat and smooths down his hair. “I’m fine, thank you very much,” he can’t resist muttering.

The girl in front of him gasps, and the owl on her shoulder jumps at the movement. Within a split second Kurt finds himself with an armful of brown hair.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Kurt blinks slowly before taking a step back.

“I’m fine,” he says. Despite her initial rudeness, he can’t help but smile fondly at the girl’s unbridled enthusiasm. Streisand tips her head to the side, and his smile broadens.

One thing Kurt won’t find in regular King’s Cross Station? Owls as pets. Let alone ferrets, or rats, or - is that a toad? As he scans the crowd around him - more than half of which are wearing the standard-issue black Hogwarts robes, and is that a wand he can see being brandished? - he misses the girl’s next words.

“I said my name’s Rachel. Rachel Berry.” Her hand is extended in an almost aggressive looking handshake, but he takes it gratefully.

“Kurt Hummel,” he says. Then he eyes the owl. “Is she named after Barbra Streisand?”

Rachel lets out an inhumanly high squeal and squeezes his entrapped hand so hard Kurt can hear his bones grinding together. “You know who she is?” At Kurt’s terrified nod, she launches herself into his arms and Kurt finds himself with an armful of messy brown hair for the second time in ten minutes. “Oh, this is going to be the start of a very long and amazing friendship. I just know it!”

Despite Kurt’s fright at the somewhat ominous statement, he finds himself smiling. “So do I.”

They hug for barely a second before a smarmy voice startles them back to reality. “My eyes are being assaulted. Move your lovey-dovey embraces somewhere else, thank you very much.” Kurt looks over Rachel’s shoulder to see the boy from before standing beside them, face scrunched up in disgust and eyes glittering with malice.

Rachel makes a move to jerk apart, but Kurt only tightens his hold on her. “I’ll have my lovey-dovey embraces right here, thank you very much,” he smiles, sickly sweet.

The boy narrows his eyes, and Kurt braces himself.

“Hey hey hey. You boys settle down.” Kurt’s dad holds out a calming hand and with one last glower, the boy retreats. Kurt lets go of Rachel and sighs.

“I could’ve handled that,” he mutters. B-grade movie villains like That Boy are nothing to him.

“Yes you could’ve. But it’s your first day at a new school so you’ve got better things to do than to get into a fight.” Burt’s gaze brokers no dissent, and Kurt nods, knowing there’s no use arguing now.

A whistle rings out, lifting Kurt from his dissatisfied fog. “There it comes,” his dad grins. “The Hogwarts Express.”

Rachel squeals yet again, and resumes her death grip on Kurt’s hand. Kurt squeezes back, grinning at the sight in front of him. The grinding of metal on metal and puffing of charred smoke are like a melody to Kurt, and as he stares up at the red painted train chugging into the station he can’t help but feel an ache in his chest. His mother took this train once. His mother was one of these hopeful, nervous, excited faces once.

Kurt lets Rachel tug him to the open train door. He lugs their suitcases in, narrowly avoiding getting pecked by Streisand. Before he steps in the train, he looks back at his dad.

“You’ll do good, kiddo,” Burt repeats. This time, Kurt believes him.

Kurt is following Rachel as she tries to find an empty carriage when their path is blocked by the lanky meerkat from before.

“Can we help you?” Rachel snaps and Kurt’s chest glows with pride.

The boy doesn’t give her a second glance, instead staring down Kurt. “You’re Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt raises his eyebrow. “Stalker much?”

The boy snorts. “You wish you were important enough for me to stalk you. I’m Sebastian. Sebastian Smythe.” He stands back and folds his arms smugly.

Kurt frowns. “Is that meant to mean anything to me?” he asks, ignoring Rachel’s shocked gasp.

“Kurt,” Rachel hisses. “He’s a Smythe. His dad is the Minister for Magic.” Any shock Kurt might have had dissipates when he turns to see Sebastian grinning like a fool. He is not going to give that idiot the benefit of knowing that he’s impressed by him.

“And that concerns me how?” Kurt replies, a mask of cool indifference falling into place.

Sebastian flounders around a bit. “You - my father - my father is the leader of the wizarding community in the United Kingdom!” At Kurt’s unimpressed stare, he blathers on. “Your father is just the owner of a sad broomstick shop in Diagon Alley.”

Rachel gasps loudly enough for the three of them. Kurt’s eyes have narrowed into slits - the only thing in his field of vision is Sebastian with his stupid snarky smile and tragic pouf of hair.

“Also, I’m not a stalker - I just happened to go into the shop so I recognised your father. He mentioned your name,” Sebastian adds, as if that was the most important thing to clarify.

There’s a rushing sound in Kurt’s ears. “Don’t let them get to you,” he remembers. He should stay silent, but if there’s one thing Kurt Hummel isn’t good at, it’s resisting the urge for a verbal sparring match. He’s speaking before he realises it.

“You know what’s sad? Basing your entire self-worth and identity on who your daddy is. Something you can’t even control. And remember, he can be voted out at any time.” Kurt raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Sebastian puffs out his chest. “Yeah? Well I live in a mansion. With servants.” He smirks as if that settles the entire argument. Which it doesn’t.

“So? Money can’t buy you happiness. I don’t need luxuries to distract myself from my daddy issues.”

Sebastian actually deflates a little at this, and Kurt smirks triumphantly. He’s struck a nerve. The victory is short-lived however when Sebastian puffs back up. “Sorry I couldn’t hear you. I was distracted by your pasty dough face.”

Kurt hears Rachel gasp but he barrels on. Insults about each other’s appearances? He’s been waiting for this moment since the second he saw Sebastian. “Well your hair looks awful. Have you been watching too many Muggle soaps? Because you look like the lame protagonist of a cringey teen drama that gets cancelled after season 1.”

Kurt feels like he should clap himself on the back for creativity, so he does. Sebastian’s eyes only narrow further. “Like a cheesy cartoon villain that gets thrown off a cliff,” Kurt thinks to himself. He’ll store that one for later.

“Okay!” Rachel says a little too brightly. “Kurt and I were about to go.”

“Stay out of this, dwarf,” Sebastian snaps without sparing her a glance. “Nobody wants your massive nose in their business.”

Kurt stiffens. “That’s rich coming from you, giant horse teeth.” Kurt’s about to add that Sebastian’s face looks like a rodent when he’s bodily dragged away by Rachel.

As they plonk into an empty carriage, Kurt glares at his friend. “I was just about to complete my verbal evisceration of him!”

“You’ve done enough evisceration for a day, Kurt. C’mon. You’ve been missing the view.” She steers his shoulders around until he’s facing the window, and suddenly all thoughts of Sebastian the criminal chipmunk fade away, leaving only awe and wonder in their wake.

It’s rolling fields and verdant valleys, periwinkle skies and wisps of clouds. As the train rounds the bend Kurt cranes his head back to see the arched bridging supports keeping the locomotive afloat. A trail of white smoke is visible from the front of the train if he arches his neck forward, and the rhythmic chugging sends rumbles through his spine. King’s Cross Station is long-gone now, and he knows this is only the beginning.

**seventh year**

Kurt’s hunched over a desk in the library he’s learned to know and hate throughout his seven years at Hogwarts. This time, he’s writing out an essay - or trying to - about the dangers of the Draught of Living Death which is ironically making him want to drink it. A deathlike slumber over N.E.W.T.s any day.

“You’re staring again.”

Kurt startles, slamming his elbow onto his parchment. He frantically examines his half-finished Potions essay for smudges, but thankfully the ink has dried. “Stop sneaking up on me Rachel,” he groans.

Rachel plops down on the seat opposite him, wiggling her eyebrows in what he guesses is meant to be a suggestive manner, but has the unfortunate effect of making her look deranged. “Well?” Kurt rolls his eyes and moves to pick up his quill, but Rachel stops him. “No. Don’t you dare ignore me. Let’s talk about your painfully obvious and embarrassing crush on a certain Hufflepuff named Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he snaps his head around to make sure the surrounding tables haven’t heard her. If his eyes linger on a dark haired boy in a yellow and black scarf at the back of the library, it’s because he’s being extra cautious. Not because that boy’s show stopping rendition of Teenage Dream with the frog choir at the annual Welcoming Feast rocked his world, and definitely not because that boy has the most beautiful face and kindest eyes he’s ever seen.

Kurt turns back to Rachel to fix her with a poisonous stare. “Say it louder for the people in the back will you?” At Rachel’s sheepish grin, he relents. “Fine. You’re right - I like him. Can I go back to studying for my Potions N.E.W.T.?”

Rachel clasps her hands under her chin and stares dreamily at Kurt. “I’m so happy for you, Kurt,” she murmurs.

He fixes her with a horrified stare. “Are you possessed? Stop staring at me like that!”

“Fine,” she pouts, removing her hands from their pose, but the dreamy glint in her eyes remains. “Anyway, what are you going to do about it?”

Kurt scrawls out a sentence on the parchment with more force than necessary. “Nothing,” he bites out.

“Nothing?”

“You heard me.”

Rachel sighs loudly. “Why not?” Kurt raises an eyebrow at her, and she sighs again. “I know you’re scared. I know what happened with Adam -”

Kurt’s half out of his chair before Rachel can finish her sentence. “Don’t say his name.”

Rachel’s mouth drops open. “I’m sorry.”

“And I’m not scared.”

At her wide-eyed nod, Kurt slumps back down his seat and grabs his quill from the ink pot with finality. He knows he’s being rude and that she’s only trying to help, but there are some things that they don’t talk about. If Rachel leaves he doesn’t deign to react, too busy simmering with rage and indignation.

Moonstone, valerian root, lacewing flies… despite his best attempts at focusing, the words are blurring together on the page. Try as he might to ignore it, Rachel’s words - hysterical and sentimental as they always are - have a ring of truth. He is scared. The last time he let someone in, he’d gotten his heart trampled on as a thank you. Nothing is worth that kind of pain.

He’s shaken out of his reverie by the glimpse of silver and green out the corner of his eye. If it’s Rachel back for a second round of “let’s poke at Kurt’s old wounds,” he’ll scratch out her eyes with his quill himself.

But it isn't Rachel. He hears a voice, and it's undeniably male. “And so while I was in Paris, I only grew in sophistication and wit -”

Kurt’s blood runs cold, and suddenly Rachel’s tactlessness is the least of his worries. He would know that voice anywhere.

He cranes his neck in the direction of Blaine Anderson’s desk and his hands curl into fists. Lo and behold, Sebastian Smythe - Quidditch captain, Prefect, and the slut and shame of Slytherin house - is leaning on that same desk, smirking in a decidedly lascivious way.

Kurt glares at his parchment and desperately tries to figure out how to translate the Draught of Living Death he’s been writing about into reality. This time, he’s not planning on being the one in the deadly slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh
> 
> anyway this chapter was 2900 words and i'm feeling proud of it cos the longest fic i wrote before this was only 1400 words. and this is going to be my first ever multichapter fic! so very excited. this looks like it'll be eight chapters and i've written the next one and a half chapters so you can look forward to regular updates - i'm planning once per week to two weeks. so hit subscribe for notifications when i do so. i've written two kurtbastian one-shots before but this is the first time it's been close to the canon premise so hopefully i've done it ok!
> 
> fun fact: this was meant to be a hevans fic so the next thing i write is probably going to be that pairing
> 
> also, thanks to everyone who motivated me to translate this fic from idea to reality! especially Being__alive who put up with me sending like half of this chapter to them first lol and who inspired the "Are you possessed?" line
> 
> and if you haven't already figured it out the hufflepuff kurt is trying to get is blaine. this isn't a klaine/blaine friendly fic (and it is DEFINITELY seblaine unfriendly. like, ugh) so don't worry. will definitely be kurtbastian endgame ;)
> 
> say hi to me on tumblr i'm @kurtsiehummel and kudos and comments much appreciated!! they are what motivate me, especially comments :) as i've already said this is the longest thing i've ever written so feedback is what keeps me going!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm alive!!!

**first year**

When Kurt is sorted into Slytherin, he wants to scream.

Ambition, greatness, determination, resourcefulness - all the traits that define a Slytherin, and all traits he’s proud of having. He knows that despite the house’s notoriety for its members’ cunning and drive, they never leave one of their own behind.

Rachel is sorted into Slytherin too, and he’s excited to have a friend. More than that, his mother was a Slytherin. He knows it’s crazy, but just wearing the same green and silver and sitting at the same Great Hall tables she sat at so many years ago makes him feel just that much closer to her.

But like in any house, there are the bad seeds. The bad seed being Sebastian Smythe. He’s a stellar example of the type of Slytherin that led to the house’s bad rep: self-serving, obnoxious and classist.

Hence the screaming.

Every single day is a test of his mantra: “don’t let them get to you.”

For example, right now. “I didn’t think you were cut out to be a Slytherin.” Kurt is waiting patiently in line for Madam Hooch, grasping his broomstick in one hand. He concentrates on savouring the excitement at flying for the first time bubbling in his stomach, hoping that will give him the impetus to resist the siren-like call of Sebastian’s smarmy voice spoiling for a fight. He holds out for one beat, two - but he’s never been good at not having the last word.

“Is that you Sebastian? Or a boggart that’s escaped from Professor Sylvester’s classroom? I’m sure she’ll like to Riddikulus you away.”

Kurt isn’t sure how it’s possible, but Sebastian only looks more smug. He swaggers forward, flanked by his cronies Hunter and Skylar, and Kurt briefly compares their look to a 90s Muggle boy band. Add a bass player and some frosted tips and they’d be good to go.

“Hummel, I don’t know how to say this, but you’re just not good enough.” Kurt slowly raises an eyebrow and Sebastian smirks. “You’ll never be good enough.”

Kurt kind of regrets having his dad teach him basic self-defense skills because it’s taking everything he has to not kick Sebastian in the groin. Luckily, Madam Hooch decides to swoop down to the assembled first years at this exact moment.

“The first step in flying is summoning a broom.” She positions herself next to her broom, and gestures at them to watch. “Stand on the left of it. Reach out with your right hand and say, with feeling, up!” The broom jumps into her hand.

“Now it is your turn. Everyone, assume your positions.”

Kurt can feel Sebastian’s eyes on him but he keeps his focus on the broom. “Up!” he says emphatically, and the broom flies into his hand.

“Very good, Hummel.” Kurt grins at Madam Hooch. As he looks around at his classmates, he realises that only three of them have succeeded in a smooth summoning of the broom. Him, Rachel, and… Sebastian, who’s currently smirking at Kurt, a challenge in his eyes.

Kurt smirks right back. Game on.

**second year**

When Kurt and Sebastian become Slytherin’s youngest Quidditch team recruits - Seeker and Keeper respectively - since Draco Malfoy, no one is surprised.

Sebastian spreads rumours about nepotism when Kurt lands the coveted Seeker spot, and in retaliation Kurt plants Felix Felicis in Sebastian’s dorm room. Within a day of their appointments, they’ve already been summoned to Professor Sylvester’s office and given a stern talking-to.

But it’s not the stern talking-to either were expecting.

Sylvester gazes at the two of them in an agonising silence, hands propped under her chin and eyes cold. The silence lasts for five minutes before she finally speaks. “The two of you remind me of young Sue Sylvesters.”

For once in Kurt and Sebastian’s storied history, they share a glance free from malice or intent - instead it’s confusion. On Kurt’s part, he’s wondering if that had been an insult or compliment, but he’s not dumb enough to ask.

“The bravery of spreading a bold-faced lie, Smythe, that could totally discredit your opponent? You have my grudging respect.” Sebastian’s face shifts from shock to smugness, but before he can reply Sylvester has already turned to Kurt. “And Hummel. The speed of your retaliation, the subtlety of its execution - without a trained eye, nothing could be traced back to you. I am loath to say this, but you did a good job.” Kurt can only blink, and offer a strained smile. He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m of the opinion that some vicious competition is essential to be a champion. For example, our sheer hatred of those hideous red and gold Gryffindor idiots has led to our brutal and indisputable victories of the House Cup for the past seven straight years.”

Kurt and Sebastian smirk. If their malice isn’t directed at each other, it’s directed at Gryffindor house.

“The rivalry between you two, though petty and stupid, has the barest undercurrent of sheer ruthlessness and cruelty. What I want is for the two of you to nurture that current. Be that current. Be so full with spite and vindictiveness that you breathe malice, and direct the full brunt of it on Gryffindor and whatever other houses there are.”

Kurt’s eyes are wide, and Sebastian’s eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline.

“But I want to get one thing through your thick skulls. When you’re on the field, you two are not rivals. You’re not even people. You’re insignificant - just two pawns in the big picture of Slytherin destroying Gryffindor for the eighth year in a row.”

Sylvester leans forward, hands propped under her chin and expression positively malevolent.

“In your seventh year, I will choose a team captain. Tickle Me Doughface,” she points to Kurt, “or Electrocuted Meerkat.” She gestures at Sebastian who self-consciously pats his hair. “Whoever can’t follow my instructions will suffer the burning humiliation of working under his worst enemy, and earning my perpetual scorn.”

Kurt and Sebastian sit in mute terror.

“Now get out of my office.”

The two of them scramble out of their seats with hastily muttered thank you’s before hurrying out of the room. There’s a short pause where the two of them stare at each other in shock, before Sebastian snaps out of his reverie.

“May the best man win,” he says, offering out a hand with a mocking smirk.

Kurt eyes his hand with a level of disgust usually reserved for dead rodents and slimy fish. “Then I guess I’ve already won.”

**seventh year**

When Sebastian is offered the spot of Quidditch captain, Kurt can’t help a well-timed jab. “Are you going to make you daddy proud?” he simpers at Sebastian, who impressively looks straight into his eyes and says a calm “No.” He’s sure he spots a flicker of hurt in Sebastian’s eyes, though. Later, to get a better reaction, Kurt sprays Sebastian’s shoes with Doxycide. He argues that it’s actually doing Sebastian a favour - no household pests are going to defile those shoes for several years with the amount Kurt has used - but it’s obvious that the foul stink that Sebastian cannot wash off was the effect that Kurt had desired.

Kurt is on jockstrap duties for a month, but it’s worth it.

Kurt can’t begrudge his rival’s victory though. Sebastian’s idea to break the heart of Gryffindor Seeker Jesse St James moments before the game was so cruel it was brilliant.

When the following week Kurt is made Head Boy, Sebastian smuggles a gaggle of garden Gnomes into Kurt’s dorm room, who promptly destroy the thousand thread count sheets with their razor sharp teeth.

Kurt revokes Sebastian’s Prefect Bathroom privileges for a week, which is a lifetime in Smythe hookups. He hears whispers that Sebastian had to slum it in classrooms instead.

Right now, Kurt and Sebastian are perched on their brooms, hovering above the Quidditch field. Hunter and Skylar are lobbying Quaffles at Sebastian who’s spinning and feinting to knock them away from the goal while Kurt keeps an eye out for the Snitch. Nothing is as exhilarating as his time up in the air - not even the thrill of upstaging Sebastian Smythe. The wind rushing past his ears and the insurmountable drop to the tiny figures dotting the oval never fails to make him feel knife sharp, alert.

Up here, he’s part of a team. Sebastian, Hunter, Skylar and Rachel - even with their differences off the field, on the field, they’re part of a well-oiled machine. He hears a cry.

“Hummel, over there!” Kurt’s already on the move when Sebastian shouts and he’s diving, rolling into a perfect 360 without losing his balance as the Snitch twists and turns. He weaves past flying Quaffles and hovering Slytherins and he’s going faster, faster, fast. If he isn’t careful he’s going to eat grass - he’s close enough to see individual dewy blades. The world narrows to his legs on his broom and his hand reaching out and a golden, glittering ball. Three metres, two metres, one metre - he leans just that bit forward, muscles straining. Cold metal stings his skin as he wraps a hand around the Snitch, its gossamer thin wings flickering and straining against his fist. He pulls back for a controlled landing, shins just grazing the dirt, holding the ball up in triumph.

The others dismount. “Good practice guys. Hit the showers,” Sebastian instructs the team.

As everyone files away he helps Sebastian load the equipment into the storage trunks before turning to him. “We need to talk.”

Sebastian groans, far too annoyed for a guy who’s talking to his star Seeker. “Is this about when you caught me and Thad in the Prefect Bathroom? I know he isn’t a prefect but don’t worry - he won’t remember the password. We were both way too wasted.”

Kurt makes a face. “That was gross, but no. We need to talk about Blaine.”

Sebastian’s lips curve into a lascivious smirk. “About how he’s going to be mine, give or take a few days?”

“You know I want him,” Kurt says. It isn’t a question.

Sebastian smirks wider. “Hummel, I’ve spent the last seven years learning to read you, so I can inflict the maximum amount of pain. Of course I know you want him. But as hilarious as it is to see your pathetic pining, it’s been months of no progress and frankly I’m bored of your relentless goo-goo eyes. So I’m getting rid of that distraction for you. It’s a win-win situation. You’ll be able to focus on Quidditch, and I’ll get some.”

Kurt shakes his head. “I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

“Oh no, this is going to be very easy.” Sebastian smiles. “And it’s going to be yet another example of you not being good enough.” His smile widens. “Just like Adam.”

From the moment he found out about Sebastian’s planned conquest, the pit of Kurt’s stomach has been roiling with unease and jealousy. But as Sebastian keeps talking, that ache has morphed into knife-sharp rage, and at the mention of Adam, the anger boils over.

Kurt has his wand out before he knows it. But as he stands there pointing it at a wide-eyed Sebastian’s throat, he remembers the mantra he’s been repeating for the past seven years.

“Don’t let them get to you.”

Slowly, he lowers the wand and tucks it back into his pocket. “I’ll see you around.”

Sebastian is left gaping as Kurt walks away. Game on, asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember to leave kudos & comments pls <3


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt finds that any lingering fears of getting his heart broken are rendered moot when faced with Sebastian’s threat against his honour. Or that’s what he tells himself. It’s not like he has time to contemplate his own emotional readiness. Professor Sylvester really was onto something. A healthy dose of vicious rivalry could make a man move mountains. 

After watching Blaine from afar for several months now, he can say with certainty that the boy wants romance. Kurt can see it in the way Blaine lingers a little too long over his batch of Amortentia in Potions class; his fluttering hands as he foresees happy endings in Divination; the wistful slant in his gaze when they bundle up honking daffodils in Herbology.

Blaine needs a gentleman, and Kurt is going to be the one for him.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he finds when he goes into the quad for lunch.

It’s like a baby has barfed their rainbow-hued lunch into a kaleidoscopic mess of epic proportions. The unpracticed eye would mistake the clusters of colour ravaging the previously bare courtyard for a floral arrangement; a romantic gesture, perhaps. But to Kurt’s trained eye, the haphazard smears of yellows, reds and pinks surrounding Sebastian and his self-satisfied smile - and, even worse, filling the eyesore of a bouquet in Blaine’s arms - speak of one thing and one thing only. 

Desperation.

Unfortunately, this revelation is seemingly unforthcoming for Blaine, who cradles the fluffy monstrosity close to his chest, a blush staining his cheeks red.

Sebastian straightens up, and in what seems to Kurt like a death march, the rest of Hogwarts’ illustrious frog choir emerge from the surrounding arched pathways, bedecked in pastel pink suits and hoisting beribboned toads in the air. 

The toads strike up a brassy chorus. 

“Oh no,” Kurt groans. 

Oh no is right. With the same level of excitement as a man at a funeral, Kurt watches as Sebastian starts belting, those smarmy lips stretched in a showman smile. 

“All you need is love,” he sings, smirking and winking excessively at Blaine, who’s now covering his face. Kurt is also covering his own face, but it’s because he’s facepalming.

“Love is all you need.” Sebastian pulls Blaine to his feet, and twirls him around. Kurt wants to hurl and also scream. Not necessarily in the same order.

“There's nothing you can know that isn't known. Nothing you can see that isn't shown.” He throws another wink at Blaine, whose cheeks are now starting to match the roses on the ground. 

Kurt is sure his glare could turn the two into ice, judging by the way surrounding onlookers have started to retreat from him. And when did he take hold of his wand?

“There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be. It's easy,” Sebastian croons, staring deep into Blaine’s eyes. 

Kurt tries his best to refrain from gagging, but he can’t watch this anymore. He pivots sharply on his heel and strides away, ignoring the smug smile Sebastian throws his way.

-

Kurt corners Blaine after Divination the next day. 

“Oh hey, Kurt. What’s up?” Blaine is positively beaming to see him and Kurt is pretty sure he’s doing the same. Despite probably being an unattractive shade of tomato red, Kurt powers on. He’s sure Blaine is the type of guy who appreciates sincerity. Kurt has that in spades - unlike Sebastian.

“Go to Hogsmeade with me.” He’s sure he meant to be smoother - to ask the question instead of making a flat-out demand - but the words have been trapped behind his teeth for so long that he forgets how. He’s also sure his cheeks have reached a saturation of red never before seen on a human face, but he can’t back out now. 

“On a date?” Blaine stutters out.

“Do you want it to be a date?” 

Kurt mentally slaps himself. He didn’t mean to say it as directly as he did, but oh well. There’s no harm in seeing how Blaine feels about him right off the bat, right?

“I think it would be great to get to know each other better,” Blaine says, wide eyed and smiling. Kurt’s smile stays plastered on while he shrugs internally. That wasn’t an answer, but at least it wasn’t a no.

“See you after school then.” At Blaine’s smile, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. 

Before he can overthink what he’s just done, he quickly retreats. He’s pretty sure he’s grinning like a fool, but he can’t help it. His words were simple, direct, spoken from the heart - all he can do now is hope. 

-

“Impressive, Kurt.”

Kurt’s been thrumming with the high of a successful evening. He’d done all the right things - pulled Blaine’s chair out for him; placed lingering touches on his forearm; lavished him with attention. 

He’d done all of this for Adam, too, once upon a time, a spiteful little voice in his head murmurs, but he shoves it away.

Kurt knew that Blaine had never formally confirmed that it had been a date, but he’d never leaned away or dropped his smile, so he was counting the night as a win.

Despite this, he had to admit that the night had been more… boring than he’d expected. The two of them had a lot in common. Too much, it could be argued. After the third time they’d finished each other’s sentences - “The worst fashion trend of the 80s -” “Acid wash robes!” “Exactly!” - Kurt had tried desperately to scrabble for a different topic. Blaine seemed like he was enjoying himself, but Kurt found himself inexplicably missing the same intellectual fireworks he had with… Sebastian, for example.

Speak of the devil.

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “What do you want now?”

Sebastian swivels an empty chair around and drops in to straddle it, corny Muggle tv bad boy style. Kurt sighs but Professor Schuester hasn’t shown up to Charms yet. As usual, he’s late. Kurt is pretty sure that the incompetent Gryffindor head is trying to find an appropriate song that will help them express their feelings, as if that will make the Slytherins less inclined to hex the Gryffindors at every given opportunity. 

“I heard about your romantic rendezvous with Anderson the other night. I have to hand it to you - I didn’t think you had what it took to properly...satisfy a man.” Sebastian smirks lasciviously as he says it. “Especially after that whole embarrassing breakup you had with that other little Hufflepuff last year. What was his name - Alan? Aaron?”

Kurt’s fingers clench white-knuckled in his robes. “Considering your history, you probably have whored yourself out to an Alan and an Aaron at some point.”

Sebastian only smiles wider, snapping his fingers to feign his sudden realisation. “Oh yes I remember! Adam. And he wasn’t so little after all. Not that you would know, Kurt, considering you never even got that far -” 

“If you keep on prattling on about size, one would think you have something to compensate for,” Kurt snaps, his contented buzz disintegrating with each new grating word. There are sparks in the pit of his stomach though, angry and hot, and he feels more awake than he has all morning.

Sebastian rolls his eyes, before steepling his fingers in mock solemnity. “Anyway. Good job on last night. You’re going small and going home, so. Good strategy.” 

Sebastian reclines in his chair as if he’s bestowed some kind of magnanimous kindness, instead of delivering an insult wrapped in an insincere compliment. Kurt’s nerves are still rubbed red raw from the mention of his ex, so he isn’t feeling particularly grateful.

“Blaine isn’t a game to me, Sebastian.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Kurt. Do you really think you’d be pursuing him right now if you didn’t know I wanted him too?” At Kurt’s sullen silence, Sebastian’s mouth curves into a wicked grin. “You’re not ready for anything new, and you know it. This is just a matter of pride.”

“You don’t know anything about me -”

“Alright guys listen up!” Kurt is interrupted in his tirade by the arrival of Professor Schuester. 

“This isn’t over,” he mouths. Sebastian only smirks.

-

He finds out afterwards.

Not content with just one grand gesture, Sebastian does seven more. In each of Blaine’s scheduled periods, he gets a different gift: leather dress shoes, shiny and soft; a heavy and intricate gold-plated pocket watch; buttery leather wallets; an extravagant plumage of rich burgundy roses; a state-of-the-art Firebolt broom; and other gifts that Kurt is too furious to note.

He isn’t surprised at the galleons spent in the making of this advent calendar of opulence - what he is surprised by is Blaine’s reaction.

For a guy who isn’t actually in a relationship with Sebastian - he’d heard from the Hufflepuffs that Blaine had been flattered by, but wary of saying yes to Sebastian’s wooing - he’d been a bit too willing to accept the presents. He apparently had no concerns over giving Sebastian false hope or the wrong idea, if the way he was drooling over that pocket watch was any indication. 

Sebastian’s lounging in Kurt’s dorm when he returns.

“Why are you in here?” Kurt asks, dropping his textbooks on his bed before crossing his arms.

Sebastian reclines even further back on Kurt’s chair. “I knew you were going to find and yell at me sooner or later - might as well get it over with.”

Sebastian is right for once. “How does it feel knowing you spent thousands of your daddy’s galleons with nothing to show for it?”

Kurt watches in surprise as Sebastian smirks. “I know the kind of guy Blaine is. While I’m showering him with gifts, he might not say yes to me - but he won’t say yes to you.”

Kurt narrows his eyes. “Blaine isn’t that shallow.”

“Sure he isn’t.” Sebastian stands to leave, straightening his collar. “Let’s see how far you get with sincerity alone.” With a final wink, he’s gone.

-

Kurt will never admit it but there is a part of his planning that is influenced by Sebastian’s words. Only the smallest part, but a part nonetheless.

He’s still convinced that simple and sincere is the way to go, but considering the way Blaine’s eyes lit up at Sebastian’s grand gestures, he guesses a little more of a show can’t possibly hurt. He’s right.

“This is amazing.”

Kurt allows himself a pleased smile. “You like it?” he asks, gesturing at the spread around him. A tartan blanket is laid on the grassy courtyard, and they’re perched on top. In front of them there’s a spread of fresh cut watermelons, mangoes and oranges, juicy and sweet; Gruyere and Parmesan on a wooden serving platter; nuts and olives in small shiny bowls; thinly sliced prosciutto and salami; and a bottle of rose to finish it all off.

Kurt had honestly thought that getting all this food from the kitchen elves would have been more difficult, but it turns out just being nice and polite had been enough to do the trick. He’s glad - he doesn’t have enough pillowcases to outfit the entire kitchen staff.

Conversation is a little easier than the last time. He knows enough about Blaine’s interests now to steer the conversation towards topics he knows that they’ll engage in. He’s not bored, per se - but he’s not feeling the buzz of his usual verbal sparring, either.

Surprisingly, the one time his interest is piqued is not by Blaine, but Sebastian.

“Hello there, gentlemen.” Kurt looks up to see Sebastian standing there smugly. “Cute spread you have there. If I were you, Kurt, I’d go easy on the calories.”

Kurt scowls darkly. His scowl deepens when he notices that Blaine doesn’t look annoyed or confused by the interruption - instead, he looks almost flattered by the visible tension sizzling between Kurt and Sebastian. 

“We’re in the middle of something, Sebastian,” Kurt clips out.

“Well, spare me a moment of your time. Blaine doesn’t mind, does he?” Sebastian grins wider as Kurt narrows his eyes, then steps back.

To Kurt’s horror, a group of students step out from behind Sebastian to form a tight block, heads bowed and hands clasped. The unease in his stomach only increases as he recognises some of the blazer-clad figures - Hunter and Skylar, the usual suspects; but also Mike Chang, Brittany Pierce, and Santana Lopez. The sight of Hogwarts’ best dancers in a suspicious v-formation can only mean one thing. 

A flash mob. As if the serenade wasn’t enough.

For once in his life Kurt wishes to not be proven right.

When the group executes an in sync boy band twirl, Kurt knows he isn’t going to be that lucky. “Ooh baby, give me one more chance,” Sebastian croons, holding a hand to his heart.

They side-step. Hunter and Skylar point cheesily at Sebastian, who continues his impression of a strangled cat. 

“Won’t you please let me back in your heart.”

Blaine is bopping to the beat from his perch on the picnic mat, and Kurt crosses his arms over his chest even tighter.

“Oh darling, I was blind to let you go.” As he does a body roll, Sebastian has the audacity to wink at Kurt and for the first time he understands what it’s like to literally see red. 

“But now since I see you in his arms.” 

He points at Kurt.

“Yes I do now -”

Just as Kurt seriously considers committing homicide, a shrill whistle sounds over the beat. Startled, they turn to see Professor Sylvester in her tracksuit robes, enchanted megaphone in hand.

“Get to class!” she roars, wildly waving a large stick that she’s magically and inexplicably procured, for good measure.

Instead of trying to tell Sue that class won’t be starting for half an hour, the rest of the courtyard disperses until it’s just Kurt, Sebastian, Blaine and - Santana, who strangely is lurking behind a stone arch on the surrounding path. He doesn’t have time to wonder why she’s still skulking around when Professor Sylvester stalks closer and glares at Blaine. 

“You too, gelmet.” 

Blaine gives Kurt and Sebastian an apologetic smile before scrambling away, patting his head self-consciously as he leaves.

Kurt glares at Sebastian as Sue approaches them. She holds the megaphone to her mouth despite being less than a foot away from them. 

“Fievel, you are in violation of Decree 27 Paragraph 3c: Organised groups of artists, including but not limited to dancers, singers, mimes, clowns and sword swallowers are banned from campus,” she blares out. 

Kurt smirks at Sebastian’s shocked expression before Sue turns to him.

“Not so fast Porcelain. Under Paragraph 5 in Educational Degree 14 it clearly states that picnics are banned on Hogwarts lawns.” 

Kurt’s mouth drops open.

“I’ve read and memorised the student charter and nowhere has it said that rule!”

Sue glares at him but there is a sliver of grudging respect in her eyes. She waves her wand and a stack of parchment materialises in her hand. 

“Read this, wanna-be Ravenclaw.” 

Kurt scowls but flips through the pages and to his horror, the decree is written down, plain as day.

“How -“ He sighs. “You made those decrees just today didn’t you.”

“I resent the implications of that statement, Lance Bass. What is indisputable is that the two of you need to be punished.”

She taps a finger to her chin. “Detention tonight. Trophy room. Don’t be late.”

She stalks off, leaving Kurt and Sebastian gaping in her wake. 

They’re still exchanging glares when Santana saunters over. 

“Twinkle toes, bitchlet,” she nods at them. 

Kurt and Sebastian frown at each other - neither are sure which nickname belongs to whom - before Santana crosses her arms and announces, “This bullshit has got to stop.”

Sebastian stares. “What?” he sputters. “You willingly went along with my plan. In fact, you actively encouraged it.” 

“That was just so I could show off my sweet moves. You should know better than to think I care about you or your best interests, horse teeth.”

“Clearly,” Sebastian mutters, aggrieved.

Santana flips her hair and continues, re-crossing her arms and fixing them with an intent stare. “The two of you have got to get a grip. Blaine’s not going out with either of you - not when he’s head over heels for Sam Evans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the wait, editing this was a b****.
> 
> please comment so i know people are still reading this!! and remember to kudos <3
> 
> songs used: all you need is love - the beatles; i want you back - the jackson 5
> 
> also i wrote another [hp!kurtbastian](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488614) one-shot so feel free to check it out!


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